


Nummer Vier

by tjstar



Series: (un)adopted [4]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst and Feels, Blood and Injury, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Ghosts, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Klaus Hargreeves, Immortality, M/M, Murder, No Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding, Surreal, Symbolism, Temporary Character Death, clairvoyance mentioned, hotel oblivion and you look like death reference, umbrella!ben
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26665744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: “It feels like a bad trip,” Klaus rubs the back of his aching head; his hair is straightened, brushing over his shoulders. He looks down at himself, his Academy uniform is neat and freshly ironed. “Oh. Do I look kinky?”“You look like a dead selfish prick,” Ben replies.“Akinkydead selfish prick,” Klaus corrects him. “Well, good news — we can’t die again, right?”
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves & Luther Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz
Series: (un)adopted [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917556
Comments: 18
Kudos: 230





	Nummer Vier

“I’m gonna take a shower. Don’t go anywhere.”

Klaus adjusts the headphones on his neck. His siblings literally don’t let him take a step out of the hotel room’s door. And by “literally” he means “I spent twenty-four hours locked up here with Diego babysitting me”, and he’s quite annoyed. He can barely hear Diego, just mumbling _“you don’t have to tell me about everything you’re gonna do, amigo,”_ but Diego draws his attention again. 

“And don’t smoke here.”

Klaus smiles innocently. 

Diego throws the towel over his shoulder.

“And if I see you jerk off again…”

“Mi hermano, that _incident_ happened like ten years ago — you mean, you’re _that_ traumatized? Come on, I wasn’t even…”

“I said what I said,” Diego pulls his harness off. 

When he turns the water in the bathroom on, Klaus turns the volume up and clicks the lighter. Smoking doesn’t help his anxiety, it’s mostly just a habit now — a very, very bad one, but it’s somehow better than falling into a black hole of a drug-addiction again. Sure, they don’t have any pills in the room — not even painkillers — and Klaus’ head’s been hurting since morning. He’s getting used to it, seeing red and white flares every time he blinks. 

He hasn’t heard from the Sparrow Academy since his siblings dragged him out of the mansion; they’re a little — a lot — paranoid about him keeping in touch with Ben.

They’re still trying to fix the timeline. 

Klaus tries to stay sober. 

He exhales the smoke and relaxes on the mattress, bass line pierces his brain. So when he feels something cold pressed to his forehead, he thinks he’s either sleeping or hallucinating — and he opens his eyes. Right, that’s the barrel of a gun and a blurred silhouette behind; Klaus doesn’t see anything else as the trigger finger does all the job. 

The music keeps playing in his bloodied headphones. 

***

It was a nightmare, it was just a nightmare; Klaus’ head throbs as he cracks his eyelids open — has he fallen off the bed in his sleep? 

“Oh, finally. You’re awake.”

Klaus groans and sits up, squeezing his temples with his palms. Something’s not right — he does recognize the room he’s woken up in, but _it can’t be real —_ it’s his childhood bedroom with the books on the shelves, with the bong in the corner and apparently with a stash of drugs in a unicorn plushie. He’s bewildered, his clothes have changed as well; he’s dressed in the Umbrella Academy uniform: loose blue shorts and a jacket, a short-sleeved white shirt, a grey knit vest and black knee-high socks.

“What’s going on?”

He’s still in his adult body, full of the adult problems. 

“Why can’t Five _for once_ project me into a reality where my kidneys are not beaten to a bloody pulp?”

“Pain is temporary,” the same voice says. “Calm down.”

Klaus blinks and focuses his eyes on _Ben_ sitting right in front of him, cross-legged. He’s wearing the uniform as well, just lacking a blue jacket — and he outstretches his arm to show Klaus the umbrella tattoo on his wrist.

“Is that _you?_ Benji? Benerino?” Klaus scrambles forward to hug him, Ben hugs him back, surprised. “Where are we, buddy? I had a _vision,_ and…”

“You’re dead, Klaus.”

“What?!”

“That’s why we’re here. And I’m… I don’t know, but I feel like I’m gonna have to guide you through this labyrinth now.”

Klaus pulls away in fright.

“But… Why?”

“Because she told me.”

“God?”

Ben nods. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve overdosed again.”

“Nah, I did much better this time — got shot in the head.” 

“Who did it?”

“I wish I knew, Casper.”

Klaus looks up at the fairy lights decorating the walls along with the stickers: wings, rainbows, UFOs and tigers; there are the words the ghosts have been whispering to him, making him write it down:

_“My skin crawls with the seething visions of the night”_

_“It makes me feel like dark + small”_

_“Even in the darkest caves there is a light!”*_

He reads it out loud, it caused so many night terrors, so many nearly-a-heart-attacks. Nostalgia is a bitch, and _this_ kind of nostalgia… Is definitely not a good one. Especially when Klaus is dead. 

“What’s the plan?”

“To get you out of here.” 

“It feels like a bad trip,” Klaus rubs the back of his aching head; his hair is straightened, brushing over his shoulders. He looks down at himself, his Academy uniform is neat and freshly ironed. “Oh. Do I look kinky?”

“You look like a dead selfish prick,” Ben replies. 

“A _kinky_ dead selfish prick,” Klaus corrects him. “Well, good news — we can’t die again, right?”

Ben gives him a sour smile.

“I thought so when I tried to comfort Vanya.”

Klaus looks closely at the drawings on the wallpapers — coal-black eyes are peering into his soul — Five was obsessed with the one-eyed man, Diego was obsessed with _öga för öga;_ Klaus almost pissed himself laughing when Luther told him that story. 

“Don’t you think you know too much?” Ben asks, staring at the scribbles too. “Your life from five to nineteen is written across these walls. And you… You predicted some of it,” Ben says, dragging his finger down the line. _“One day I aspire to illegally land a plane in Mexico...”**_

“I didn’t land the plane, but those were fun times,” Klaus smiles. 

_“Consume everything then consume yourself.”_

“Did death _really_ consume you, Klaus?”

“Debatable.”

Klaus looks at the psychedelic posters above his bed; he designed this room himself, he’s still proud. Even when he’s dead. Speaking of which —

He feels fine. 

He puts his fingers to his neck and doesn’t feel a pulse here.

“That’s how it goes,” Ben says. “We’re stuck in your mind.”

“So I can control it?”

Ben doesn’t have time to answer as a loud explosion makes the room shudder and makes the plastering fall from the ceiling, and Klaus instinctively covers his head with his hands. This is not real, not real — he screws his teary eyes shut, shaking and swaying as Ben leads him to the door. The air smells like napalm, like corpses, and the helicopters are about to start dropping bombs. 

_Vietnam, The A Shau Valley, February 1969,_

A never-ending nightmare. 

The soldiers aim their rifles at Klaus — he can’t fight _with_ them, he can’t fight against. The hallway is a maze, endless and dark. The air is hot and humid, and Klaus probably shouldn’t be panicking when his heart is still and his breath is absent, but he’s paralyzed, he can’t look at his surroundings.

“Klaus?”

This is a dream.

Ben’s grip on his shoulder tightens.

“Look at him, Klaus.”

Klaus chokes although he doesn’t even need to breathe. 

“Dave?”

He stares at the love of his life; it’s _his,_ post-Vietnam Dave, he smiles, and there’s no gunshot wound in his chest. Klaus walks through the corridor of the soldiers, waving their pleas away, GOODBYE, GOODBYE. He’s not in the mood, he doesn’t have enough strength to talk to them as he rushes forward, into Dave’s arms, pulling him into a kiss. Klaus can touch him, feel him.

He would _die_ for him if he only could.

Dave’s lips are chapped, tasting like sweat and Klaus’ tears; Dave’s arms are strong, roaming circles on Klaus’ back. Klaus wants to sob, nose pressed into Dave’s neck, he can’t stop shivering, he can’t believe he had to die just to see _his_ Dave once again.

“I couldn’t save you,” Klaus stammers, tongue numb. “I tried, I swear… But I couldn’t.”

His head hurts. Pain shoots through his brain, blood boiling and ears ringing, words scrape his throat. And Dave says,

“It’s okay, love.”

The ground is littered with the funnels of the explosions; somebody screams _“fire!”_ and the bombs keep falling. All Klaus can see is too bright and too colorful flashes of orange, green, and red. He’s falling apart, his hallucination is falling apart.

“I can’t just… Keep watching you die again and again,” Klaus whimpers. “I lost you, I lost Ben, and the ghosts keep chasing me, and I feel _so,_ so guilty.” 

He can’t stand this surreal scenery as the mansion keeps transforming, turning to the club; there’s the music playing softly in the background, repeating that sweet, sweet moment from their past. Dave can’t change his fatigue, and Klaus can’t get used to the Academy uniform he’s still wearing. But the soldiers are gone, and Ben turns away when Dave whispers into Klaus’ lips,

“It’s not your fault.” 

Klaus didn’t pull that trigger, he _was_ a trigger. He keeps screwing Dave’s timeline by his existence; he keeps _killing_ him. He can still feel Dave’s blood on his hands — physically, mentally, and it hurts worse than the most violent withdrawal. It hurts worse than being locked away. Dave understands, sure he does; Klaus couldn’t take the bullet for him, Klaus couldn’t summon him to apologize. Klaus says,

“I’m sorry, Dave.”

And Dave says,

“I love you.”

They’re standing closely, chest-to-chest. They sway in tact with music, they’re shitty dancers, but they shouldn’t be worrying about that.

“I love you too, Dave. You’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

But words can’t fix anything. So he just hugs Dave tighter, and he realizes — the best thing he can do for Dave is let him go. Dave tugs at the chain around Klaus’ neck, pulling the dog tags from underneath his shirt and holding them in his palm.

Klaus swallows back tears. 

“You just… You wanna be free?”

Dave nods, Dave caresses his cheek.

“You know what to do, Klaus.”

Klaus doesn’t. They’re back at the mansion, and he just wants the war in his head to stop, he wants to get out of this maze. There’s the light in the darkness, the hallway is illuminated with white and blue sparkles. Klaus’ palms are glowing, pulsating with energy.

“I’ll be safe there,” Dave says, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Promise me to take care of yourself.”

“But I’m dead too!” 

Klaus wants to go with him, it was not his fault that somebody decorated his lovely skull with a hole.

Dave shakes his head. 

“It’s different for you.”

And kisses him again before disappearing in a gleaming waterfall of light. 

Everything gets darker without Dave. 

“I will never see him again.”

“I called him a fling. I’m sorry, I didn’t know…” Ben falters. 

“You didn’t know,” Klaus sniffles. “It’s fine.”

Ben was forced to watch this scene, and Klaus feels sorry for him — he can’t reach for Jill either. Klaus wishes he could manifest him to talk to her while he still had a chance. 

“You’re a mess.” 

“I don’t want to know what’s waiting for me around the corner,” Klaus looks around. “Vanya’s nannies? My biological mother?”

He can’t even finish as another sob smothers him, builds up in his throat, too hard to shove it down. 

“You just let him go,” Ben says. “Like Vanya let _me_ go.”

“She told me.”

“I wanted to say goodbye.” 

Ben walks away, Klaus follows, the hallway is just far too long, twisting under their feet; Klaus knocks down the doors, but all of them are closed. 

“Hey, Ben?”

He’s mostly talking to Ben’s back now.

“What?”

“Did you… Did you really want to leave?”

Ben stops, Klaus nearly bumps into him.

“I didn’t want to die.”

“I know, brother dear.”

“And you’re… You’re okay with being shot in the head? When you actually have a chance to go back? When you _have_ to go back?”

Ben shouts, clenches his fists and slides down the wall; Klaus sits down next to him.

“You called me selfish earlier today, remember? What did you expect, Benny-boy? _“Oh no, I have an unfinished business, I can’t die!”_ or _“I have to kick my killer’s ass, God, resurrect me!”_ take a pick,” Klaus shrugs. “It wasn’t my fault. But well apparently if I shouldn’t live in that timeline, I shouldn’t die either.”

“You _can’t_ die,” Ben corrects him.

“Maybe I still have a limit.”

“You don’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I _asked God.”_

“Immortality sucks,” Klaus says. “Coming back is _so_ painful. Especially when no one is excited about you being alive.”

Ben elbows him in the side. 

“Stop pitying yourself.” 

“I had a _weird dream_ about Diego asking you to stay in _my_ body,” Klaus almost enjoys Ben’s reaction as he flinches. “Surprise! I wasn’t completely out of everything.” 

“He didn’t mean it, Klaus, it wasn’t…”

“Huh, nevermind. But what if… What if we have a chance to swap? Like… You’re going to the family, and I’m staying with Dave?” 

Klaus is excited about his sudden idea.

Ben sighs.

“That won’t work.”

“Why?”

“I… I exist there already.”

“That’s not you, and… How do you know?”

“We’re in _your_ head, Klaus.”

“Bear with my shit then. I literally lost my brain somewhere in a cheap hotel room.”

“Not funny.”

“It is! I swear to God it’s funny, come on, lighten up!” Klaus laughs. 

“It’s time to go,” Ben gets up. “Can we work like a team _for once?”_

“Oh, so those years we weren’t a team, huh?” 

Well, maybe a bullet in his brain really turned on his bitch mode. Klaus doesn’t mind though — he’s got nothing to lose. Literally. Ben died twice, and Dave is gone forever, so that even Klaus’ power is useless. Being dead is useless too. 

He pushes the door open, a random one; it takes him to a motel room.

“No, not this again!” Klaus wants to close it, but Ben pushes him in. “Are you kidding me?”

Ben stands in the doorframe, lips pursed.

Everything looks just like that night. The chair in the center of the room, thin curtains on the windows. A table, a bucket with a bloodied cloth in it, a kettle, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Klaus’ skin itches as he sees all of this — he remembers, of course he remembers — he touches his lips, tasting blood and feeling his beard stick to the tape. The closet’s door is open.

“I can’t stay here,” he jostles Ben away.

“Diego said you had quite an eccentric personality, but he didn’t mention you were a schoolboy.”

Klaus turns to the voice.

“You saved me.” 

“I did.”

“I…” Klaus swallows a lump in his throat. “I wanted to conjure you for him, but I couldn’t…”

It’s Eudora, the only person who didn’t even know him, but who came to save him anyway — who died because of him.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Klaus says. He shouldn’t have taken that briefcase. 

“I was there to protect you,” Eudora smiles, hopelessly sad. “Not sure if I succeeded.” 

Klaus really wants to make her feel better.

“I was alive in a few universes after that.”

“In a few,” she repeats. “You’re such a weirdo.” 

Eudora looks lost and hurt, but he can’t see a wound in her chest, Diego told him, of course. Now he has to _save_ her. 

“I have to let you go, right?” 

“How?”

“I don’t know,” Klaus shrugs. “Take my hands.”

She does, she squeezes his palms — HELLO, GOODBYE, and closes her eyes. Klaus dreams about peace, about a ghostless world where his thoughts are less negative. He thinks about going into the light again; death is an _advantage,_ but he’s not the one to decide. 

Eudora says,

“Thank you, Klaus.”

The light is too bright to look at; Klaus squints and covers his eyes with his forearm. When the darkness returns, Eudora is gone. 

Ben takes a step out of the doorframe.

“This is really _your_ _power.”_

“What do you mean?” Klaus wipes his sweaty hands on his jacket as the glowing subsides.

“Do you really think the ghosts keep following you just because they like your company, Klaus?”

“That’s a good question,” Klaus bites his lips. “I’m a sexy human Ouija board, no?”

Ben, in a typical Ben manner, replies,

“You can set their souls free.” 

“But not _mine.”_

They leave the room, kicking away a bloody carpet. 

“You all keep saying that it wasn’t my fault,” Klaus says. “But I could save you. All of you. But I didn’t.”

“No, you couldn’t, that’s how things work.”

“Oh, things _work_ then.”

“You know what I mean.”

They go upstairs — the scheme of this labyrinth-like mansion doesn’t match its prototype, the rooms and hallways switch chaotically. Klaus wonders if his siblings have already found his cold body, bloodied and ugly, sprawled across the bed.

It’s nice to have the _old_ Ben back. Even for a few hours or minutes — there’s no clocks in the afterlife. Ben keeps leading him through the twists and turns of the corridors, and the walls might swallow him, his mansion has been crunching his bones like a hungry beast since he was a kid. The air’s getting colder, creeping under his clothes; it’s all in his head, _it’s all in his head._ Klaus hugs himself, rubbing his shoulders as the smell of fungus and damp stones fills his nostrils, nearly making him gag. 

He knows where they’re going. 

“I can’t,” he says, he’s been tortured enough in his life. 

“You don’t have to do this alone, Klaus.”

His childhood was shitty, his adult life was just a mixture of drugs, comedowns and nightmares. Add Ben’s lectures to the list. Add the day when his ghosts got more powerful. Klaus’ mental calendar is all crossed out. He’s had a few good days though. Ten months with Dave? Of course. Barely noticeable compared to decades of physical, mental, and alcohol abuse.

“Number Four! Number Six!”

Klaus’ hands begin to tremble as his surroundings change against his will; his blood turns to ice, goosebumps form on his skin. He’s locked up, the door behind him disappears; Klaus scratches a cold stone surface, trying to find a hole, or a dent, just not to meet _him._

“Answer me or you will get punished!”

“Does it really matter when you’re dead?” Klaus mutters under his breath.

“Number Four!”

“Stop yelling at me, _Dad.”_

He says the last word mockingly, he’s tired and irritated, and he just wants to get _out._ He sees a way too familiar figure in front of him, standing between the sarcophagi, his monocle gleams like the third eye. 

“I cannot tolerate your behavior anymore! Your and Number Six’s grades have been…”

“Dad, I’m thirty-three. Or I mean, I was… Before I died,” Klaus scoffs. Behind him, Ben chuckles. “The last thing I care about is my _grades.”_

“What are you doing here then?” Reginald looks at him through his monocle. “Finally started to unlock your true potential. Still did not understand a thing about it.”

Klaus can’t handle this place, the mausoleum has always been his prison. Just like his mind. 

“I got one thing,” he says. “All those years, I thought that Ben’s death was _my_ fault. Just because I stayed alive, you know. Just because I wasn’t sober enough to conjure him for our siblings,” Klaus winces. Of course, they didn’t believe him, leaving the Academy one by one after he got kicked out. “But it was you. No matter how many times you blamed us. Kids with superpowers. _You_ disappointed us.”

He smiles as fear eats him out of the inside. If this is real Hell, he’s ready. But Ben doesn’t deserve to stay here with him. 

“I just wanted to leave,” Ben says as he leans against the mausoleum’s wall. “And I left. But at the same time, I stayed with Klaus just to _leave_ with him. I blamed him because you used to blame him, because he’s just a useless Number Four, but,” Ben rubs his stomach. “The real monster is you.”

Reginald glares at him.

“Your speech is nonsense, Number Six. I raised you and your siblings as superheroes.”

“Well, congratulations, you failed,” Klaus throws his hands up. “The Apocalypse happened, twice, just because you couldn’t take responsibility for once and train Vanya instead of forcing Allison to rumor her. And you smell like mothballs. I remember.”

Reginald is about to burst like a balloon. 

“You,” he sticks his finger in Klaus’ chest. “Get _out_ of here. I no longer require your presence.”

“Can’t walk through the wall,” Klaus grins.

Reginald doesn’t respond, drowning in the light and narcissism; Klaus feels like he’s being abducted by aliens. It’s not that he’s ever experienced anything like that, but he believes that the sensation is similar to getting sucked into a spaceship. Up and up, he feels Ben shake his GOODBYE palm before saying,

“Bye, Klaus.”

“Goodbye, Benerino.”

The ray of light scorches Klaus’ brain, tickles his skin, and the numbness gets replaced with a plethora of feelings. 

Getting back to life is quite an unpleasant process. 

*** 

His pillow is all wet and sticky; the 80s pop music keeps playing in his headphones, cord wrapped around his stiff neck. Then, he hears somebody crying, sobbing even. 

“I just left him alone for f-five goddamn minutes!” 

“He’s… This can’t be... Not breathing, he’s not fucking breathing!”

Klaus gasps.

“How the f—”

“There’s _so much_ blood, oh God.”

He’s sure his skull is still cracked, the back of his head is all damp. Klaus hacks his lungs up as the stream of air suddenly fills his chest, he chokes on mucus, and his mouth tastes like copper and bile.

“Roll him over, roll him over!”

Right in time, he vomits over the side of the bed, onto somebody’s shoes probably, he’s still blind as dizziness doesn’t let him open his eyes. He blankly touches his forehead, expecting to feel a hole there; his skin is clammy and sweaty, but there’s no wound. 

“God, I hate hotels.”

Klaus coughs until he begins to heave again. 

“He was dead, I’m sure, what the hell is going on?”

Diego clutches the front of Klaus’ mesh top. 

“Can you hear me?”

The rumbling in his ears is too loud. He blinks, feeling woozy and hangover, and the shapeless spots around him turn into his siblings. 

“Klaus?”

“Yeah? I’m… Yeah, I’m fine.”

They help him sit up, Allison holds him by his shoulders, and he looks back at the brain-soaked mattress. His blood splattered the wall behind him, the floor. Klaus turns the player off and unwraps the headphones from his throat, finally taking a few deep breaths. He sees Vanya, as white as a sheet, but not the White Violin-like pale. She’s terrified, looking at him and at a bloody puddle on the bed.

Five is a ball of nerves, blinking himself closer to Klaus.

“Are you immortal?”

“What on Earth makes you _doubt_ that?”

Klaus misses Ben, misses Dave, and he still can’t handle Eudora’s death; meeting Reginald again was an ordeal, but he finished the quest. He made it back without God’s help this time. Or he thinks he did. 

“Who did it?” Five asks. 

“I…” Klaus licks his dry lips. “I don’t know, I didn’t see anything, I swear. Who would want to kill me?”

“You, a tax evader and a cult leader who literally invented a new religion that changed the lives of hundreds of people?” Five rubs his chin. “I have a couple of ideas.”

Klaus massages his temples. Five’s voice is too loud.

“But I… I told them it’s over?”

“Too late. Some of The Commission agents managed to join the cult. Do you know what that means?”

“They finally found themselves?” Klaus guesses. He just wants to take a bath and _sleep._ God, he’s so tired. “Diego’s pal is the boss now, I believe?”

“Not anymore.” 

“Oh really? I didn’t even know Henry…”

“Herb,” Diego corrects him. 

“Herb,” Klaus snaps his fingers. “But I was cheering for him climbing up his career ladder.”

They keep asking him about his death, about what he remembers; he can’t answer their questions, his speech is jumbled and talking more would definitely make him puke again.

“One more thing…”

“Can we stop now? My head is killing me.”

He moans, his body goes limp in Diego’s arms.

“You are concussed,” Luther says, making him throw his head back. “Believe me, I can recognize the symptoms.” 

Klaus blinks at him.

“Is there something weird with my pupils again?”

Everything is still hazy and doubled; his head is pounding, stomach rolling and mouth tasting like acid. 

“Luther, help him clean up,” Allison says. Then she points at the bed, “We need to take care of it. It all looks like we held Klaus hostage and… Eventually killed him. Sorry, Klaus.”

Klaus gives her thumbs up.

Five crosses his arms over his chest and nods at him.

“At least now he’s too dizzy and weak to go anywhere and get his ass in trouble again.”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Klaus giggles. “Ow,” a headache makes him regret that instantly.

He gets up, holding on to Luther as they go to the bathroom; the blood in his hair begins to dry off, skin feels disgusting as he loosens the bun and lets curly strands fall to his shoulders. He peels his top off leaving his pants on, not to shock his innocent brother. Klaus bends over the edge of a bathtub as Luther shoves his head under the tap. He’s oddly gentle, but there’s still the lump on the back of Klaus’ head that sends a hot wave of pain down his neck, down his back. Klaus hisses and snorts the water, pink, red, a bloody waterfall; he feels like he might throw up again, hand wrapped around his stomach. Nothing comes up. _This_ is definitely a concussion. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Luther adds more shampoo. “So you got back?”

“Daddy dearest kicked me out of the afterlife.”

Klaus can barely see anything through the curtain of his wet hair, but he can tell that Luther’s hands begin to shake. 

“Again? I mean… That’s _what_ happened when I was drunk? Klaus?”

“What do you mean?”

“At the club. Before the first Apocalypse. You died, and I didn’t even help.”

Klaus’ chest gets tight, it’s weird to feel his heart beating again.

“How did you know?”

“You talk in your sleep. Diego can’t keep his mouth shut too.”

Luther turns the water off and hands Klaus a towel — Klaus wraps it around his head tightly, in attempts to soothe a migraine. 

“That’s what Reginald knew about you? You couldn’t die, but… You tried,” Luther is really calling him out now. “Jesus, Klaus, don’t do this again,” he pulls Klaus into a hug all of the sudden. 

Klaus squeals but hugs him back, letting Luther hold him; he feels safe for the first time. They pull away eventually, and he sits on the edge of the bathtub. 

“What are we gonna do now?”

Luther replies,

“Five kept the monocle, for sure. We haven’t seen any Sparrows yet. Not even _Ben.”_

“For how long have I been dead?”

“Uh, maybe like. A few minutes? Diego found you, called for us, and we… We were so damn scared because we couldn’t save you. We may be the shittiest siblings, but we _care._ Really, Klaus, we care. And seeing you like that…” he grinds his teeth. “It was terrifying. It’s nice to have you back.”

Klaus smiles, covering his shoulders with a fluffy towel. 

“We’re gonna have to find another hotel now. What about a family trip?”

Luther smiles too.

“A bunch of runaways chased by a group of superheroes who probably want to end us? I’m in, brother.”

Klaus wonders how they’re going to get rid of all that blood. He listens to the sounds coming from the door, their arguing continues; Five says something about a _briefcase_ and offers to just blink them out of this hotel. 

He’s got a point there. 

**Author's Note:**

> *, ** - phrases taken from [this post](https://frogsarebxtches.tumblr.com/post/629018577488527360/pictures-of-klaus-bedroom-at-the-academy) credit to OP <3  
> klaus traveled to mexico with his cult in 1961, ~clairvoyance~  
> clairvoyant!klaus theory credit: @sunriseseance on tumblr  
> \---  
> my tumblr: @i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky  
> \---  
> thanks for reading!  
> comments/thoughts/theories are very appreciated <3


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